"A novel is a mirror carried along a high road. Sometimes it reflects to your eyes the blue of the skies, at others the churned-up mud of the road."
当我走出囚室、迈过通往自由的监狱大门时,我已经清楚,自己若不能把悲痛与怨恨留在身后,那么我其实仍在狱中。
写作就是呼吸,就是生活,就是最充分意义上的存在。